


You and me Bonny and the Devil Makes Three

by Esmethewitch



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crack, Dancing, Ignores TROS, Incompetent Villains, Mistaken Identity, Multi, Past Armitage Hux/Poe Dameron - Freeform, Polyamory, Sort Of, established Rose Tico/Poe Dameron, metal bikini, prison break - Freeform, this will either be my new ot3 or the threesome from hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21608773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esmethewitch/pseuds/Esmethewitch
Summary: Hux is captured by bounty hunters, sold to Hutts, and finds himself with two people he'd hoped to never see again: Poe Dameron (former...conquest? lover? Whatever you called someone whom you argued with and had angry sex, then never saw again after the outbreak of war widened an already large fracture in your relationship.), and Rose Tico, a little grenade of anger. In captivity, they work together to escape and perhaps do a little bit more.Title inspired by the song "You and me and the Devil Makes Three" by Ye Banished Privateers.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux, Poe Dameron/Rose Tico, Rose Tico/Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	1. Tied Down Below

General Armitage Hux strained at the end of the chain round his collar and peered into the two adjacent holding cells in the Hutt’s sail-barge. The accommodations were not luxurious, but he did have a pile of cushions. There, on his left lay the sleeping form of Poe Dameron. The long red loincloth and metal bikini top left little to Hux’s imagination. Though, years ago, he’d seen it all before. Toned muscles under tanned skin and dark curly hair newly coiffed, Hux made himself think about what unsavory fate could be in store for them to quell his arousal. Don’t think about pulling that hair or biting that perfect neck, he scolded himself. That’s all in the past. He hates you now. Well, more than he did before.

Disturbingly, he was attired in the same fashion. Goosepimples crept in on his exposed, pasty flesh, and his legs stung from the recent waxing. He’d been trained to resist torture, but waxing had not been covered. The metal top chilled his nipples. There, on his right crouched Rose Tico. At least their captors had given her a dress. It was a red, body-hugging design with a plunging neckline and a slit at the thigh, but her arse was covered. Perhaps she should have appreciated that and stopped whining about the impractical shoes and corset she’d been strapped into.

“At least they gave you a dress,” he said.

He was met with a familiar glare. “They’ve hobbled me with this,” Rose said. “With these shoes and this corset, I can’t draw a full breath or run without falling over.”

“And you’re chained to the wall by your collar,” Hux added.

“Yes, but you aren’t in heels and a corset. I’m sure the twil’ek waxing you didn’t make insensitive remarks about your build, either.”

Poe’s chain jingled as he jolted awake. He clutched the bars separating him from Hux, and stared past him with wild eyes. “Rose! Did they hurt you? Are you alright?”

She shook her head. “Nothing worse than getting my legs waxed happened.”

“Only the legs!”, Hux exclaimed. “Well, they didn’t put you in a bikini so I suppose a bikini wax would be unnecessary. Perhaps this was just an intimidation tactic.”

Poe frowned. “Or possibly, whoever ordered this only likes men.”

Hux made a face. “That is a possibility, yes, Rebel Scum. Should it come to that, I am proficient enough in hand-to-hand combat that it will not be an enjoyable experience for them.”

Dameron rubbed his unfairly handsome face with his hands, gasping as they came away smudged in makeup. “Do you know what our captor’s rationale for getting all three of us at once was? I don’t understand it, Hugs. If the Hutts wanted to collect the best-looking people in the Galaxy, I can get why they took me and my girlfriend. But as you’re here too, there goes that theory. Planetary genocide and vitamin D deficiency is not a good look on you, Hugs.”

“You and your girlfriend? You and ROSE?!”, Hux snapped. “It should have been ‘My girlfriend and I’, but no matter. How long have you and this…feral, biting Scum been together?”

Rose took a few wobbling steps toward him, vibrating with fury. They were separated by bars, Hux told himself. He was not afraid. “Why do you care?”, she spat. “And since it matters so much to you, six months last week.”

“Well, there’s a few things that your double-crossing moon jockey has neglected to tell you,” Hux said.

“No, Rose, it wasn’t like that!”, Poe shouted. “We were briefly together before the war. It was nothing serious.”

Rose tilted on her heels and crumpled to the floor, her dress pooling around her. “You’ve upset her,” Poe said. “And what does that get you, Hugs? You tried to kill her before. Does this make you happy?”

She pushed herself up and leaned against the barred wall separating herself from Hux. “You two are both idiots,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

“YOU ARE BOTH IDIOTS! Comparing dreadnought sizes won’t get us out of here. The bounty hunters stunned Poe first, but they had a bit more work to get me. I only pretended to be stunned and let myself be taken so I’d not be separated by Poe and I could learn something. One of them said: ‘I don’t know why we had to come out here to get this one, the boys back at base have already got one’, and his partner told him, ‘No, we don’t know enough about what they want, the one at base looks nothing like this one. He is orange and this one is brown. To my mind, neither of them resembles the Choking Killer much at all.’ Then there was some discussion of how all humans look alike and how unpredictable genetics can be, and a debate over whether they should kill me or keep me alive as a hostage to use against Poe.”

“So, who’s the Choking Killer?”, Hux mused. “Kylo Ren? He did wear a mask, so nobody was sure what he looked like or was even a human for a while. And we haven’t advertised his origins.”

“Well, if they meant Kylo Ren that will work in our favor,” said Rose. “We can none of us use the Force.”

Hux was laughing, a raw maniacal cackle that hurt his recently-choked throat. Both Rose and Poe stared at him. He doubled over and fell to his knees.

“What-what’s so funny?”, Poe ventured.

“As soon as that man-child set foot on my ship, I’ve had to clean up his messes. Now some alien scum have mistaken me for him.”

“You’ve created your own fair share of messes,” Rose hissed. “Hays Minor. The Hosnian System. The way I see it, the Force has both a sense of humor and justice.”

“But they took Poe too,” Hux countered. “And yourself.”

Rose turned her face to the wall and did not speak for a long time after that. Poe tried to get Hux’s attention with little success for some hours, until finally the angry silence was too much for him to bear.

“What?”, he snapped.

“We need an escape plan,” Poe said, glancing over his shoulder to check that there were no guards.

“The first priority should be getting off this planet,” Rose said. “I’m pretty sure it’s Tatooine. I hate it already.”

“For the first time, I agree with you,” said Hux. “But I do not know how you propose to do that while we are chained up.”

Poe sighed. “We pretend to work with them. I can lay on the charm. As soon as they are convinced we’re not a threat, we steal a ship.”

“Because you can fly anything.”

“Yes, I can.”

Rose rolled her eyes at both of them. “Right. We need to figure out where they leave space ships around here. This is a sail barge. So this probably won’t have a hangar. It’s too small. If this sail barge goes to a palace or a large market, we should find crafts there. The hard part will be playing along with all of this,” and here she gestured to her revealing garb and Hux and Poe’s lack of clothing, “until we have them where we want them.” She rubbed one of her bare arms, and Hux saw the faint outline of a bruise. Upon closer inspection, the make-up she certainly had not applied of her own free will looked rather heavy on concealer. “I have not made friends with anyone here yet.”

He said nothing. It was not his business if she had been roughed up, and if she had been, she probably wouldn’t want him to know. Admitting weakness to one’s enemy was always a mistake.

“Did you bite anybody?”, Poe asked.

“Yes,” Rose admitted.


	2. Sons of Leia

The door to the hallway slammed open, and a trio of Gamorean guards armed with blasters marched in. The three of them were unarmed and disoriented. Even if they managed to overpower the guards in this narrow set of rooms, they would be hopelessly outnumbered later.

The guards opened the cell doors. Poe flinched when his guard (an especially burly Gamorean with rippling jowls) unfastened his chain from the wall. Poe was Resistance Scum, forgetful when it came to birthdays, a bit of a slob, and a little shallow when it came to the consideration of one’s finer feelings, but he didn’t deserve this. The guard dragged him out of the cage, Poe’s eyes wide with fear. Hux shoved down the urge to leap at the guard’s throat and stab him with a knife he most certainly didn’t have.

“Relax,” the guard grunted. “I’m not into xeno. Or bondage.”

“What?”

“Didn’t mean to be specieist, as it were, but humans just don’t do it for me. Not enough hair, and I’m not into the skin texture.”

“Oh!” Poe breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s fine, buddy. You do you. Any idea what we are in here for?”

“The Hutt’s revenge. The clan has long memories. Your precious mother killed Jabba, and that’s something they don’t take kindly to.”

“What am I then,” Hux yelled as his guard yanked him along, “chopped Nerf-steak?”

“You could also be the Huttslayer’s son. We have heard many things about him. He is great. He is terrible. He is the son of so-called Heroes, and yet a tyrant of the Galaxy. Humans have short lifespans and multiply rapidly. She could have had multiple children. I think fraternal twins run in their family. Or only one of you could be her son, I’m not sure how that works.” Hux sneered. These imbeciles were not up on current events.

“What about me?”, Rose called from the floor. She had fallen down again.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” her guard said.

“Story of my life,” she muttered, and struggled to her feet. Upon a closer look, those shoes were six inches of brutal heel. Rose was clearly not accustomed to them. Worse still, they didn’t add much to her already small stature. They were marched along single file, with Poe at the front and Rose teetering along behind. Their progress slowed as they reached a crowded antechamber, bustling with droids and aliens from all over the Galaxy. Hux and Rose were now side by side. Hux stuck out a hand. Rose looked at it like he had offered her an active thermal detonator. Then, after she nearly went down again after stepping over a ventilation grille, she took it. Rose’s hand was small and warm, and clutched him tightly. She was deliberately not looking at him.

Whenever she stumbled, she leant against Hux. The guards should have tried to separate their prisoners, but Rose was so inept at walking in heels that they were tired of stopping to let her get up at this point.

Their progress was quicker, but Hux unfortunately felt the soft swell of her breasts or brushed the curve of her hips (well-displayed in the dress she never would have chosen for herself). The abominable bikini gave him nowhere to hide his inconvenient arousal. He did not actually like her. She was right next to him and occasionally on him, and years of adulthood made the stupid Little General associate nudity and proximity to another person with sexual activity. It was nothing more than a conditioned physiological response. The one saving grace of this piece destined to burn in Fashion Hell was that the metal didn’t let Little General Armitage stand at complete attention. But he was not at ease either.

Finally, they were brought before a dais. An emaciated, wrinkly being sat on it. It had orange skin and stubby little arms. Was this the Hutt? But they could see its ribs. Did Hutts even have ribs? Or skeletal systems?

The guards forced Poe to his knees but allowed Hux to spot Rose as she folded herself down, loudly cursing the fashion industry, a stylist named Mari in particular, and capitalism in general.

Hux knelt beside them. This was the bleakest moment of his career. Not even the time Kylo sprayed disinfectant on the floor of the throne room and slid him around like a mop after Hux berated him for leaving bloodstains everywhere compared to this. He’d broken a couple of ribs, but at least he was fully clothed.

“Ah, here we see you, scum. You are not worthy of the presence of Abba the Hutt, but it slakes the fires of rage burning within me to see the son of the Huttslayer and his companions brought so low, and reduced to the condition of his mother.”

“Umm,” said Poe. Hux violently shook his head and mimed slitting his throat with a finger. The guard yanked at his chain in response to his unsanctioned movement, the collar rubbing old bruises.

“No, scum, I am interested to hear what new filth you have to say. Rise. Speak up.”

Poe stood. “I think you have the wrong man, Abba. My parents were Kes Dameron and Shara Bey. I am not related at all to General Organa.”

“I can tell you that what he says is true,” said Hux. “The son of Leia Organa is not this man. He is tall, with paler skin and darker hair, slightly younger. He wears a mask to obscure his hideous features. He has the powers of the Force at his command. The man before you is named Poe Dameron. He is a pilot, not a fallen Jedi.”  
The disturbingly thin Hutt cackled. “Ah, but blood is not the only tie between a mother and her children. You are her Oath-son, are you not?”

“What’s an Oath-son?”, Rose asked.

“You swore an oath of fealty to her, Poe Dameron, did you not?”

Poe sighed. “I swore to defend the Republic. Then, to lead the fight against Galactic tyranny in the Resistance.”

“But your precious Princess is the Republic, is she not? And after the betrayal of her blood-son, she still has you. Blood matters not when there is loyalty.”

At this juncture, the Hutt pointed a bony finger at Hux. “And you are like to be her blood-son. You are a General, so logically you would be the son of a General. I have seen you in holos. You can whip crowds to a frenzy. You are the mastermind behind the First Order. It makes far more sense for the Huttslayer’s traitorous son to deny his unnatural powers and lead the charge against his mother from the front rather than skulking about in a mask. Now, with the Huttslayer’s blood-son and Oath-son in my hands, I can ransom the two of you for anything.”


	3. What May Be

They all three slept in one big cell, closer to the Hutt’s chambers. Hux could not call the experience comfortable, though they did have plenty of pillows and blankets cast over a slippery layer of straw. For one thing, they were still chained to the wall by the collars on their necks. For another, every night Poe Dameron and Rose Tico fell into each other’s arms. Hux’s jealousy reared its head and hissed at them. 

They were captives for nearly a week now, tired out each night from a day of grueling work. It seemed no ransom was forthcoming.In the evenings, he was separated from Poe and Rose, made to serve drinks to Abba’s guests, who tittered at his red hair, horrible bikini, and forced servitude. 

Hux found that the best way to disturb the patrons of the bar was to make eye contact with the offending being and slowly smile, a rictus of raised eyebrows and teeth. He’d always been told that he had an appalling smile. The human, humanoid being, or tentacle-creature would invariably go silent and run after he smiled at them. 

But he did worry about Poe, chained up by the Hutt’s dais like some living ornament (he’d fantasized about doing such a thing with Poe before, but they’d have a safeword and he wouldn’t let anyone else see his gorgeous pilot in chains. He felt guilty for his wet dreams now) , and Rose, who just disappeared during these times. He feared the worst for both of them. At least he could see Poe. Rose’s absence meant he was free to imagine terrible things that even Rebel Scum didn’t deserve to have happen to them. When Rose returned, complaining of a sore back ( “I was bent over the whole time!” she wailed) and wet fingers, he gasped in horror. 

“I can kill them for you if you tell me who did it,” Hux said.

“Did what? Made me wash dishes?” Rose replied. It seemed that their captors quickly realized Rose had neither the temperment for eye candy or a barmaid. At least she was safe. For now. Wait, why did he care about her safety? 

When they waited for sleep, Hux parked himself as far from the happy couple as his chain would allow, and stared resolutely at the wall in front of him each time they started to go at it, to do the thing that reminded him of his own frustration and loneliness. The worst part was that this thing was not sex. It was pure, chaste cuddling, kisses to the forehead, and meaningless lies like: “We’ll get out of this together, I know it”, “You’re beautiful”, and “I love you”. Hux couldn’t remember ever telling Poe that he loved him. He just assumed that he understood that Hux valued their arrangement. Poe once told Hux that he loved him, he recalled. Hux just laughed and said:

“You don’t need to tell me that  _ now,  _ you’ve already got me in bed.”

“I meant it.”

“Really. Stop laying it on so thick.” Hux’s black uniform lay in a puddle on the floor of that rented room, his cap resting atop the clothes. Beside it was Poe Dameron’s jumpsuit and helmet. He was too excited to properly fold his uniform that night, but Dameron was a perpetual slob. This was just a quick fuck, Hux told himself. Poe was probably hoping that sex and emotional manipulation would loosen his tongue and make him drop intelligence about the First Order as readily as his pants. It wasn’t going to work.

“I love you too,” whispered Rose to Poe in the present. 

“I know,” Poe replied. “Mhm.” From the faint glow of the hall lights shining through the barred door, Hux could see Poe tuck errant strands of black hair behind Rose’s ears, then nuzzle at her forehead as she threw her arms around him. They never did things like that, back when it was just Poe and Hux. It was meaningless sex, and nothing more.  _ If it meant so little, you wouldn’t be jealous now,  _ some part of him protested. No, though Poe Dameron was easy on the eyes, kept in shape due to his military training, and knew how to look after hair, he wasn’t simply angry that his former bedmate was now with another. 

The worst part was that Hux could see the upcoming years in montage, as clearly as scenes in a holofilm: Poe in a dress uniform, Rose in a white, flowing gown, beaming as General Organa read something from an old book and Poe slid his mother’s ring off the chain and onto Rose’s finger. Rose smashing bits of cake into Poe’s mouth and giggling as he returned the favor, BB-8 whizzing in circles round their feet, wearing a crown of flowers. Rose carding her fingers through Poe’s perfect hair, like he used to. Long walks on the beach, holding hands in public, taking all the time they wanted to lie in at the hotel, unbothered by the specter of someone discovering a First Order officer and a New Republic pilot together in a compromising position.

A couple of years after these first scenes (marked by sped-up images of seasons changing plantside, perhaps, or a chrono screen flashing the days away), Rose’s already soft belly would swell out and grow rounder. Poe would kneel and kiss it, then get off his knees and rub the growing monument to new life in little circles as she leaned against him. Then, there would be children; two little cherubs with Rose’s face and Poe’s curls. Disgustingly adorable.

He could already hear the imaginary, winsome parasites scream “Daddy” and rush towards Poe as he stepped down from his X-Wing and strode across the airfield, the setting sun painting the scene in gold. Of course, he’d stop and pick them up, lifting the children to the sky he’d just come down from. Then, he would hold each child by the hand and they would walk in procession to Rose, who was standing by the gate with a smile on her face. He’d kiss her. They would go home, and continue living some soppy holodrama happy ending that Hux could never even dream of. 

“Hugs”. Poe’s voice startled him out of this waking dream.

“What? I was trying to sleep.”

Straw crinkled as Rose rolled over. “We need to talk. We could have an opportunity to escape soon.”

“What? How?”

“You know the woman who stuck me in that awful dress and those shoes? Mari, she’s the stylist?”

Hux could not remember. “Who?”

“She’s a twi’lek. Green skin.”

“Oh. She waxed my legs and my bikini line. As soon as I have a blaster, I’m going to kill her.”

“No! Don’t do that, I’ve been talking to her. Yesterday, while you were serving drinks and Poe was chained up by the dais, I got her attention and apologized for biting. She said it was fine, that she used to do stuff like that all the time when she was first taken as a slave. After a lecture about ‘learning my place’ and assurance that at least Abba doesn’t seem to like women at all and with all other genders he only likes to watch, she told me that he will ask one of us to dance tomorrow. She asked me if any of us have experience or training.”

Hux blinked.  _ With all other genders he only likes to watch… _ This could be bad. He did not want to put on a show for the Hutt’s benefit. But at least neither he nor Poe was in any immediate physical danger from him. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her Poe can’t dance.”

“Hey!” Poe interjected. “I can dance just fine. You danced with me at the last party, I have great moves…”

“Your ‘great moves’ knocked over R2-D2 and the punchbowl, besides scandalizing Leia. And do you really want to dance for Abba?”

“I don’t,” Poe admitted. “But if I did, my dancing might make him beg me to stop.”

“Or drop you through a hatch in the floor, to be fed to a rancour.”

Hux rubbed at his temples. “This is a sail-barge. I don’t think they have room for a rancour on this ship.”

“Fine, they might push you off a plank instead.”

“There’s an idea,” mused Poe. “That way, I’d be free!”

“From the height they’d push you off of and the speed we’re going right now, you’d break your neck.”

“Rose, can we just brainstorm right now? We can talk feasibility later, at the moment we should just--”

“What else did you tell Mari?” Hux interrupted, trepidation rising in his stomach. “What did you tell her about me?” He’d only had a couple of ballroom dance classes in his life. And performed in the Spring Musical at Academy one year, a traumatic experience he’d only subjected himself to for the needed Arts credit. He would never do it again.

“I said I didn’t know about you, calm down.” Rose sighed.

“I am very calm right now!”

“Hugs…” Poe shuffled over to him, and laid a hand on his bare shoulder. The gesture was meant to comfort, but Hux shrunk back. “We would never let you go through a repeat of the Spring Musical, buddy.”

“What Spring Musical?”

“It’s why Hugs doesn’t like song and dance. Don’t ask him about it, if he wants you to know he’ll tell you in his own time.”

“Which is never.”

“Anyway,” Rose continued, “I told Mari that I took dance lessons since I was six and was fairly serious about it as a teenager, but I haven’t danced since then. She said that would do. I asked her why Abba doesn’t just hire actual dancers, and she said that Abba loves watching amateurs dance badly while providing a running commentary on their performance. So I’m going to practice and try to choreograph tomorrow.”

“I never knew you danced.” Poe turned to look at her. “You never said anything about that.”

“It never came up. The problem is, I only know folk dances. And those were never meant to be performed by a solo dancer. I can do the steps, but I can’t do the formation or have someone spin or catch me.”

“And what does this have to do with an escape plan?” Hux couldn’t care less about the folkways of a planet that he was indirectly responsible for turning into an uninhabitable slag-heap. 

“While Abba and his guards watch the dance, the two of you can sabotage the sail-barge and make it stop. Then, we can jump off and run away.”

“What--what about you, Rose? If you’re dancing, how will you get back to us?” Poe sounded worried. “This is a risky plan, even for us.”

Rose grinned, her teeth flashing in the lamplight from the hall. “I told Mari I wanted to perform the…” she said a word in a language that Hux didn’t know, then moved her lips a bit. “In Basic, I think you might call it the Stick-and-Bucket dance. Every dancer has a stick. A heavy stick. And there’s a bucket in the middle. I think I can arrange an exit for myself in a pinch.”


End file.
